How High is Too High?

Fly, robin. Fly... Indeed.

I think it’s safe to say we’re all none too pleased with watching our good friend M-E-T-H OD, man. Method Man hit bud bottom by getting bagged on tax evasion charges. Didn’t we tell this nigga? Didn’t we tell this nigga not to fuck around with them people, ha? The mens and womenses of the IRS are not the demoralized cyclists in your Right Guard Power Stripe commercial. Can’t be treatin the taxman like Dean Cain in How High.

[Blogger’s Note: Shoutout to Obba Babatunde. Yes, sir, Dean Cain, sir! P.S.: Dean Cain = football player turned Superman.]

They got Wesley Snipes. Nino fuckin Brown is at home right now trying to work some shit out where he doesn’t have to serve his entire three-year sentence and live out that Undisputed shit for realsies. Now Method is on the verge of resurrecting Tug Daniels--or is it Cheese Wagstaff? Maybe dude wants to be in New Jack City 2.

No, wait. I’m sorry. That would be New Jack City 3. Bow Wow and his financial advisor J-Money already did New Jack City 2, didn’t they?

I place Method Man and Redman, his buffoonery partner in an elite grouping with Snoop Dogg as artists who have killed the weight of their music by being primarily associated with stupid shit. I thought coonery paid better than to end up the kind of nigga who gets both his Lincoln Navigator and manhood repossessed. Well, I guess they repossessed the manhood when Method and Red debuted on Sly Fox, but arrest is the big one.

The worst part of all—which resonates even today—is how this nigga tried to hand us that old bullshit talkin about he got high and forgot to pay his taxes when the Navigator got carted off. Well, you know the nigga remembered like a motherfucker after that shit. So, what the fuck happened? Am I, a grown-ass man, supposed to believe Method Man then took a weed walk in the park, came home and forgot the IRS was indeed not fucking around?

Negro, Please.

[Blogger’s Note: I need a football player to unveil a “Negro, Please!” cutout after scoring a touchdown. Please contact me if you’re interested.]

Method Man could have called the IRS like everyone else in the middle of this recession and be like, “Yo, I know you see me on the TV acting like an asshole, but I really don’t have the kind of money I make it look like. I need to get on one of them payment plans or whatever.” The IRS will be like, “Word. Well, here’s what we can do.” Trust me. I’ve been there. Fuck them off and they come and take shit, including but not limited to your freedom.

The fucked up part is that if Meth gets as high as he says, he probably did call them niggas and just forgot. Then Redman came over and rolled an 8.5” x 11” spliff with the official IRS logo on it to commemorate the occasion.

Question? Comments? Requests? Kiss the sky lately? ron@ronmexicocity.com